


Laufeyson

by EmeraldRoseQuartz



Category: British Actor RPF, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor: Tales of Asgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldRoseQuartz/pseuds/EmeraldRoseQuartz
Summary: What really happened in Jotunheim, and how our favorite trickster god actually came to be in the care of Odin and Frigga.A prequel of sorts to the Marvel Cinematic Universe...I think. Maybe. It might not end up that way, I'm kind of playing this one by ear.Big thanks to caffiend for the support, food references, and inspiration. Cheers to you, dear!





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caffiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/gifts).



_ Jotunheim, 965 A.D. _

The day was lost.

Laufey looked over the cold, rocky plains of Jotunheim, innumerable Jotun bodies scattered about the icy vastness. His land. His home. Jotun blood soaked into the snow, leaving it an eerie dark blue against the storming grey skies. The smell of new death was inescapable. And now, after the massacre, it was unsettlingly quiet.

Though they had fought the Asgardians for centuries, attacking non-military locations was always unspokenly off-limits. But now, forests and villages burned alike as the Aesir ravaged his realm, sparing neither young nor old from the slaughter. A new line had been drawn, one that could only be answered with more blood. Laufey felt his heart rattle as he and his entourage walked slowly through the remains of the town, struck silent at the devastation.

“Your highness…” Naglfari said softly, his closest advisor and longest friend. It was a request to be told what to do - his men needed guidance, strength, hope. Laufey swallowed the knot in his throat, inhaled deeply through his nose, and cleared his mind, as always.

“Search for survivors,” he intoned quietly, as though speaking too loudly would somehow make it worse. “Start setting up camps and preparing a meal for whoever you find. And send word to the palace that we’ll need resources brought as soon as possible. Where is Rindr?”

Just as one of his men was about to retrieve the messenger, Rindr came running up to them, breathing heavily, the steam of his breath curling around the runes on his face, dark indigo against his ruddy blue skin.

“Sire!” he called, and fell to his knees in front of his king. “Sire, it’s your son…”

Laufey bent down quickly and got close to Rindr’s face. “What?! What about my son?” Laufey’s only child, Vosud, was but an infant. He’d left him and his wife safe in the palace...

With a pained, apologetic gaze, Rindr barely managed a whisper. “He’s been kidnapped!”

Laufey’s body froze, his pupils reduced to pinpricks in fear, causing his huge red eyes to appear almost empty. For several moments, he didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t look at anyone around him. The news was too terrible for his brain to process, and the reality of Rindr’s words sunk in slowly. Eventually, the Jotun King he came back to himself, and stared at the source of the news. “Who…?”

“The Aesir, sir,” Rindr swallowed hard, all the platitudes of “killing the messenger” swirling through his mind as he fought the urge to get as far away from his majesty as possible. “They found a way in.”

_ They’ve got my son. _ A hollowness spread through Laufey’s chest, and a loud ringing filled his ears.  _ They’ve got my son. _ His vision began to black around the edges, and he felt lightheaded. He fought it off, steadying himself on Rindr’s shoulder.

“What of the Queen? What of my Leikn?”

Again, Rindr’s face set itself in frozen fear. “She...was attacked. She fought bravely, but...I’m afraid she was badly wounded. She is unconscious, recovering with the healers in the Springs. We have been unable to wake her as of yet.”

Laufey’s breath caught only slightly before he responded. “Send a message to Odin. Immediately. I will negotiate.”

His voice was as strong as he could make it, but he knew his situation was dire. Odin had already conquered Niflheim and Alfheim, and Vanaheim bowed to his every whim since he had married their king’s eldest daughter, Frigga. Jotunheim was one of the last realms that stood a chance of holding him back, and they were going to fall. The Asgardian forces were too strong, and the Jotun’s limited resources would only dwindle further as winter came. It was a matter of time - Odin knew that. Laufey’s nightmare was coming true. He would soon be face-to-face with the fearsome Allfather of the Nine Realms, who held his only progeny as the bargaining chip for his kingdom.

——

Laufey’s awaited Odin’s arrival in his throne room. The Frost Giant king tapped his fingers nervously on the arm of his throne, though to any outside observer, it would have merely been seen as impatience. Laufey had centuries of practice perfecting his royal countenance, molding it into a frightening, ice cold visage. He would need every ounce of control he could muster today.

The doors swung open, and the Allfather himself was led down the long corridor to his throne. Though the cavernous hall was massive even by Frost Giant standards, the moment the Allfather entered it felt utterly constraining. He had no entourage, no additional dignitaries with him, and likewise Laufey’s had demanded their meeting be held in private; he did not want their discussion to be heard by anyone, but also...for the safety of his people. The Aesir were the most belligerent creatures in the universe, and Odin was the worst of them all.

It took an unseemly amount of time for him to approach the dias; he was  _ sauntering  _ unhurriedly toward Laufey, a smug, victorious grin spread across his lips. And still, Laufey dare not react - the life of his son depended on it. After what felt like several more centuries, Odin stood before him, proudly holding Gungnir at his side. Laufey hadn’t noticed before, but it appeared the Allfather now had an eyepatch over his left eye. It gave Laufey no small amount of satisfaction to see the King of Asgard had been maimed on Jotunheim...but even though his warriors were able to take his eye, Odin had procured something so much more precious.

“King Laufey. So glad you’ve finally decided to talk.”

Odin’s voice was slick with sarcasm and haughty disdain; it was a well-known fact that the Aesir inherently believed they were better than all other races in the Nine Realms, and that could not have been made more apparent from his tilted head and disrespectful posture. “I suppose the additional motivation has served its purpose.”

“Where...is my son?” Laufey growled as deeply as he could manage, the threat seeping from his words. Indeed, he may have been near powerless in this negotiation, but he would not be cowed so easily.

“Your boy is alive. Safe, and unharmed. For now.”

Laufey’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly. “What are your terms?” he snarled. Frost Giants weren’t known for being loquacious, and he saw no reason to expand into pleasantries here.  _ Just find out what to do to get your son back... _ he reminded himself, gripping the armrests of his chair. He felt the stone beginning to crack beneath his fingers.

“I thought you’d never ask!” Odin said, too brightly for the circumstances. “First, your complete and unconditional surrender. Second, I’ll be taking the Casket of Ancient Winters. And third...your son is staying with me.”

“WHAT?!”

Odin grinned like a wolf, reveling in the anger that radiated from Laufey. “How else should I expect to keep my strongest and most worthy adversary in line? Let’s be honest with each other, Laufey - this war could last for eons longer before your pride weakened enough to accept surrender. We are saving  _ lives _ by ending the conflict now. More of your own lives than mine, of course. This negotiation leans heavily in your favor,  _ King Laufe _ y, as once you have bent the knee to Asgard, your people can start to rebuild. They can have a flourishing economy while trading with the Aesir, the Dwarves, the Vanir, the Light Elves - your people will  _ prosper  _ under this...new arrangement.”

Laufey’s eyes narrowed in anger. This “trade” he spoke of meant Asgard would force them to focus their economy on extracting the rare minerals they used for their “magic.” And it would likely make the Frost Giants dependent on the Allfather for survival necessities...like food.

“But,” Odin continued, “I know you well enough that you would convince your people to rise up once you got your footing. So your little boy, your precious firstborn son, will stay on Asgard as a safety precaution. I possess the real treasure of Jotunheim. Not the Cask of Ancient Winters, but the heir to the throne. One step out of line, Laufey, and your legacy ends with you.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” Laufey trembled with the struggle of maintaining his composure while facing the malevolent warrior-god. “You give me the option of having my son imprisoned forever or killed?”

“No,” Odin smiled again with a sinister twist of his lips under his full beard. “He will be kept alive regardless. It is up to you whether the only life he knows is being tortured in the dungeon while you carry on this war...or if you surrender and he is cared for and raised as a servant on Asgard. Safe, possibly even happy.”

Laufey fumed. “This is unheard of, Odin. Even for you, kidnapping  _ my son _ is...barbaric. This is madness.”

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do to stop me?”

Laufey growled again, more feral and animalistic than he’d known he could make.  _ My son... _ his heart screamed and shredded in his chest.  _ My legacy.  _ He lowered his gaze, staring furiously at the ground while his breath froze like the winter in his chest.

He’d been outmaneuvered by a man who was willing to do more deplorable things than he thought possible, and now he was paying the heavy toll for not having understood his enemy’s ruthlessness sooner.

He had no choice.

“I...accept.”

Laufey barely whispered, but his voice carried throughout the hall, echoing with the desperation he felt but could never express. For the sake of his innocent son, he, and his people, would bear this burden.

“Very good,” Odin sneered with sickening self-satisfaction. “Sound the horns, old friend. It’s time for Jotunheim to lay down arms...and finally surrender.”

——

Frigga had worried the hem of her gown so thoroughly that the threads were beginning to come apart, despite the finery of its craftsmanship. She stared out into the dark Asgardian night, knowing her husband was coming, that he would be home at any moment. Her heart raced with a strange combination of thrill and fear.

When she had first learned that she would be married off to the King of Asgard - and the de facto ruler of the Nine Realms - she was terrified. The week preceding her wedding, she couldn’t sleep, still reeling at the idea that she would be wed to a GOD...and not just a god, but Odin, the Allfather, the most horrible and cold-blooded Aesir that ever lived. Her mother had stroked her hair as Frigga wept, speaking softly and sweetly about how lucky she was, what an honor to her family and her people that she would be the next Allmother. But Frigga could hear the strain in her voice, the icy fear of her eldest daughter being given to the monster who had conquered more realms than anyone in history and held them in near slavery under the auspices of “protection.”

Vanaheim had been spared from the worst of his rule, primarily because her father knew that cooperating, no matter how degraded and undignified it made him, meant his citizens would not suffer the ire of Asgard. He carried it like a yolk, and while he still held the hearts and sympathies of the Vanir, his position was no more glorious than a well-decorated bureaucrat, following orders from the higher-ups.

But...as life often proves, one must expect the unexpected. She had found Odin to be a reasonable man and a decent spouse. Though she disagreed with some (...many) of his edicts and decisions as king, he was kind to her - he genuinely liked her. In private, though he still carried the responsibility and stress of ruling, he let his guard down with her, allowed her to ask questions openly and made her feel safe and respected. And over the centuries, they had grown with each other. Some might call it love - perhaps even  _ she  _ would call it that - but at its essence it was a deep familiarity, the comfort of predictability, a trust born of uncountable small, personal interactions.

And when she’d had Thor, their lives ignited with joy. A son - an heir! - healthy and happy as they could have ever dreamed. And as her growing toddler rocked, sleeping next to her in his gilded crib, Frigga couldn’t help but wonder what Odin’s latest campaign on Jotunheim would mean for their blossoming family.

“Frigga...dear,” a soft, gravely voice came from the entryway behind her. She turned, smiling with relief, immediately noticing the new eyepatch. She was about to ask about it until she saw what her husband carried in his arms...a small bundle that almost looked like…

Her heart sank as a little blue baby came into view, the gentle runes and patterns already showing on its face and chest.

“Odin...what is this?” Her voice almost caught as he handed her the blanketed newborn, sleeping soundly, the crimson red eyes hidden by his restless eyelids. He was dreaming.

“This...is Laufey’s son.”

Frigga’s breath stopped in her throat. “Odin…”

“I rescued him,” he said, quickly and firmly enough to quell her questioning. There was a deep sorrow in his voice, like a man wrestling to understand what great cruelties he had seen. “He was left abandoned in their temple during the battle...likely because of his birth defect. He was going to die. I couldn’t...I couldn’t just leave him there…”

Odin went silent, staring at the child. Frigga instinctively began rocking the baby back and forth, feeling his small body’s cold through the fabric of his swaddle. She looked up at her king.

“They were going to sacrifice him?”

“Yes. It was... _ barbaric _ .” Odin growled. “In an attempt to please whatever demons they worship, to aid them in this awful war. They would have murdered the only son of the king to defeat us. But it was for naught, my dear. The day is won, and the child is alive. Jotunheim has surrendered.”

Frigga felt tears in her eyes as she continued to sway with the diminutive babe. They won. The war was finally over. There could be peace, a real life for her son and…

“Odin, what are we going to do with him? We can’t keep a Frost Giant in the Palace...” Frost Giants were monsters of legend in Asgard. From an early age, children learned nursery rhymes about the fearsome creatures from the land of ice.

“I thought...you might be able to help me with that.”

“What...how?”

Odin’s eye focused on her with fast determination. “We shapeshift him to Aesir form. Permanently.”

“Odin...you know how dangerous that is. Permanently shifting a child so young...his sense of identity could be shattered. He’d always feel out of place, uncomfortable in his own skin and never knowing why-“

“And we’ll make him a prince.”

Frigga stared at him with disbelief. “You want US to raise him?”

“No one would dare harm a prince of Asgard,” Odin locked eyes with her, keeping her gaze completely on him. “He may feel different, but he would hold a status. It would protect him.” He reached down and gently stroked the top of the baby’s head. “Laufey doesn’t know he’s alive; he’ll never come for him. We must try, Frigga. This poor thing has been through enough. We must keep him safe...even if it means hiding who he is. Forever.”

Frigga’s mouth went dry and her eyes unfocused. Adopting another child? Caring for this refugee Jotun while keeping his true identity secret? Her thoughts spun as she fully considered what was being asked of her.

Meanwhile, Odin examined his wife’s reactions. His cold, calculating mind read what she felt and adapted his look to its complementary reaction. This beautiful witch, this powerful Vanir was his to command as easily as a peaked eyebrow or a heartfelt sob. Laufey’s son would be raised to love him, to hate the evil Frost Giants and long for their destruction. And once Laufey fell, he would give his loyal second son the throne of Jotunheim and reveal his true identity as the firstborn son of King Laufey, rightful heir to the throne. His most powerful foe literally made family. It was the best possible way to maintain Laufey’s obedience.

Then his own firstborn would take his place as King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms.

Odin let his mind churn on the optimistic possibilities of his plan for several moments before focusing back on Frigga.

“What do you think, my love?”

Frigga’s breath was shallow, but deep in her heart she already knew her answer. She turned to her husband, tears threatening to cascade from her eyes.

“Yes. We’ll keep him safe.”

Odin smiled and leaned forward to kiss her forehead gently. “You are the saint of motherhood, my beautiful Frigga…” his said softly, his voice velvet against her troubled mind.

They each put a hand on the boy’s skin, then looked at each other soulfully.

“I love you, Odin,” Frigga said, her voice higher than normal, strained with emotion.

“And I you, my queen,” Odin responded, his eyes softening as what he assumed was love spread from his chest and through his limbs.

They both closed their eyes and focused on changing the baby. Golden light flowed from their fingertips, wrapping around the child and covering him in a warm glow. Slowly, the runes began to disappear, and his blue skin lightened and turned a soft pink. The baby opened its eyes long enough for the red to dissipate, and emerald green irises stared at the sky. His bald scalp sprouted a few wispy dark locks, barely a shadow upon his head. After just a few minutes, Laufey’s son appeared unrecognizable from an Aesir infant.

With a sigh, Frigga opened her eyes, weeping, and looked down at her new son. He gazed back up at her with a sleepy smile. “He’s beautiful,” she said softly.

Odin wrapped his arm around his wife. “What shall we call him? I don’t believe the Frost Giants gave him a name before leaving him to the elements…”

Frigga stood silently as she cradled the boy in her arms, looking into his curious green eyes.

“I think we should name him...Loki.”


	2. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki celebrates his 500th birthday. Some fluff, some humor, and some heartbreak.
> 
> So Asgardian ages are hard, but here’s my thought: 1 “immortal year” is equivalent to 50 “mortal years” (I made this up...don’t look too much into it), so I see Loki being the equivalent of 10 and Thor being about 13 or 14. Hope that helps set the scene. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it looks like this is going to be longer than a one-shot!

“ **HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER!!!** ”

Murderous green eyes flew open as the pre-adolescent, dark haired Prince of Asgard shot up from his sleep at the thunderous noise, blearily scanning his room for the source of the unholy cacophony that had wrenched him from his peaceful slumber. It took only milliseconds to find it.

The elder Prince of Asgard, a hulking blond boy visibly suffering the awkwardness and discomfort of puberty, stood at the foot of his bed, the huge, dopey grin plastered across his face. In his oversized hands, he held a small cake that could only be described as “unfortunate” - the top section listed precariously to the side as if it were slowly trying to slither away from the bottom half and escape using only the aid of gravity, while the melting white and pink frosting dripped sadly off the plate and onto the floor. An almost illegible “500” was written crudely in pink on the top, just beneath a small, lit candle that seemed to beg pathetically to be put out of its misery.

“What. Are. You. DOING. Thor?!” Loki practically vibrated with rage at the unnecessary - and frankly, distasteful - intrusion into his private quarters and interruption of his sleep. His normally quaffed and perfect locks wrapped chaotically about his head, sticking unscrupulously to the slightly damp bits of his face that had been resting against his satin pillow. The fury he was barely able to contain stiffened his posture and forced him to clench his fists in the velvet blankets and soft sheets.

“It’s your 500th birthday! You only turn 500 ONCE, Loki - it’s a milestone!” Thor retorted, unable to mask the elated chuckle in his voice. “Now come. I woke before the dawn to make you a cake, and I must insist that you blow out this candle before the entire blasted concoction falls apart!”

As the initial shock of his violent awakening began to wear off, Loki recognized that this was an act of familial love. He recognized it, but it was still buried underneath the surprise, annoyance, and anger. However, Thor acknowledging the sad state of his culinary monstrosity quelled Loki’s anger further - no matter what the oaf did, his brother’s unshakable charisma always won out in the end. And that self-deprecating expression he now wore encouraged Loki to gift him with quick forgiveness for his earlier...attempt...at making his birthday special. Rolling his eyes and throwing the covers to the side, Loki stood from the bed and walked over to his older, much taller sibling - Thor had hit a growth spurt a few decades back, and he fully dwarfed Loki by at least a foot and a half.

The poor little candle started to melt off the cake with the rest of the frosting. Thor’s face contorted with nervous urgency as he pleaded with everything other than words for his brother to complete the deed before it was too late. Without further hesitation, Loki pursed his lips and gently blew out the flame, so as not to splatter his wayward brother with the disgusting confectionery.

Looking up at Thor’s satisfied smile, Loki grinned as well. Even though they had their  _ many _ differences - in everything from appearance, to taste, to height, to age - it was a comfort having someone so earnestly willing to be nice to him, despite his natural tendency to be defensive and withdrawn.

After a beat of silent appreciation shared between the brothers, Loki peered down judgmentally at the rapidly deteriorating pastry.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to eat that.”

“Oh,  _ GODS _ no!” Thor’s boisterous laughter echoed off the high ceilings as he set the cake on a small side table, intentionally ignoring it as the top half finally succumbed to its fate and sloughed off onto the polished wood. He then put a strong hand on Loki’s shoulder and held his gaze with mock solemnity. “Consider this one of my birthday gifts: I swear to you, brother, upon all our ancestors who came before us, upon Yggdrasil herself and all the Nine Realms, upon the warriors in Valhalla and the unfortunate souls in Hel...that I shall never attempt to ‘bake’ again, especially unsupervised.”

As if on cue, a bloodcurdling scream came from the kitchens, followed by an impressive stream of curses and swears, and a few previously-unheard-of names for the princes. Thor looked sheepishly at Loki’s insinuating smile. “I may have also been in such a rush to get here that I did not clean up the aftermath of my...admittedly misguided efforts.”

Loki’s eyes glittered with amusement before he finally dismissed his usually somber attitude and allowed himself to laugh freely. And once the floodgates were open, he found he couldn’t stop. Thor joined him soon after, and their uproarious, godly giggles were only quelled when Queen Frigga, with all her usual elegance and grace, stomped angrily into the room.

“BOYS!”

They tried to stop their snickering immediately, but both had been so overcome by the hilarity of the situation that they could not have maintained their composure if their young lives depended upon it. Which, given the enraged look they were being given by their mother, it may very well have.

“How in the NINE REALMS did you two manage to completely COVER the ENTIRE KITCHEN in FROSTING?!”

There was a thick, pregnant silence as Frigga’s glare threatened them, Thor’s body stiffened with strain of contrition and the anticipation of his punishment, and Loki’s lips pressed together desperately as he prepared to proclaim his innocence in the matter.

Then they all started speaking at once.

“Mother, I was trying to surprise-“

“Mother, I just woke up, I was in-“

“Do you have ANY idea how angry your FATHER-“

“-was planning to go back and clean up-“

“-I didn’t even WANT the stupid cake-“

“-not going to leave your rooms for a DECADE-“

“-but it’s his 500th birthday and-“

“-then it MELTED all over the place! And I-“

“-can’t BELIEVE this, you are PRINCES and-“

“ **_SILENCE!!!!!_ ** ”

The unfathomably loud voice of the Allfather came from down the hall. All three of them immediately went mute and turned to see the raging King of Asgard storming toward them, his single eye glaring with fury as his very footsteps seemed destined to rend the palace apart.

His face boiled red as his uncontrolled emotions set his family to instant fear.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he hissed, his voice a harsh whisper and a terrifying contrast to his earlier bellow. “Do you realize you can be heard all the way out in the courtyard? This is NOT how the royal family of Asgard behaves!”

“Odin,” Frigga said, softly but firmly, gently resting a well-controlled hand on his arm and turning her whole focus to calming the enraged Aesir. “The boys were just about to explain what happened,  _ weren’t you _ ?” She turned and gave the princes her practiced motherly glare that commanded their instant acquiescence.

Odin fumed and his one eye remained fixed on Loki, accusatory, bloodshot, and unmoving. Loki felt the bottom drop from the pit of his stomach - he knew that look. Blame, before anything had been said; guilty, with slim hope of being proven innocent. Loki froze in place, unable to articulate, to defend himself...the absolute  _ hate  _ in his father’s eye made him want to lie down in a dark corner and die.

“Father, it was I who soiled the kitchen.” Thor stepped in; he had seen that look often, but only ever directed at his brother, never at him...and it wasn’t right. He also saw how frightened and small his younger brother became while under that suffocating gaze. “I wanted to make Loki a cake for his birthday - look!” Thor pointed to the now-almost-completely-liquid disaster on the table that was slowly leaking to the floor by way of the table legs. “It’s his 500th, and I thought-“

“You thought you would destroy the kitchen, waste food, and cause a mess so great that it will take the servants all DAY to clean it?” Odin snapped back. Thor was struck silent.

Then Odin’s eye AGAIN turned to Loki. “And you  _ encouraged _ him to do it?”

Loki’s jaw dropped as he realized that even Thor’s admission wouldn’t save him from the Allfather’s wrath. “What? No father, I didn’t-“

“Don’t LIE to me, boy!” Odin roared, that ferocious glare falling upon his youngest son yet again. “It seems every word out of your mouth is a falsehood! Do you believe I am ignorant to your mischief? When will you-“

“Wait, no, father-“

“YOU DARE INTERRUPT ME?!”

Loki shut his mouth and just stared, wide-eyed and bewildered, lost as to how he could make this right. He wanted to hide, to just shrink away and be nothing...to be anything OTHER than the focus of the Allfather’s accusations. Instead, the silence overtook him. His breathing shallowed, and again his little hands curled into fists as he forced himself to remain still, despite all his instincts to either run or yell back.

Odin’s breathing was heavy and he radiated anger, but Frigga gently held him by the crook of his arm. “Odin,” she spoke with a tone she had practiced for centuries - calm, firm, and sweet. “Let’s go outside. Thor, go to the kitchens and help them clean up the mess you made. Loki, get dressed and meet me in the garden in an hour. We will discuss this later, as a family.”

Thor practically scurried past Odin and out the door, avoiding eye contact as he went and beelining down the hallway to where he had been told to go. Odin’s eye narrowed at Loki, but he turned and followed Frigga’s lead as she began to head for the entryway of Loki’s quarters. With just a quick glance back, she smiled in a way that said she was sorry, that she was proud of him, that she understood him.

Loki watched them go, his body still stiff with all the complicated emotions that raged through him - fear, anger, sadness, hopelessness, doubt, guilt.  _ Why does he HATE me so much? Is this normal, to have your father believe you to be wicked?  _ He still squeezed his hands tight, and was only shaken from his thoughts when he heard a soft, wet dripping noise. He looked at the floor and saw red splatters of blood on the marble. He opened his hand and winced at the small half-moon cuts from his fingernails, tiny drops of blood seeping from their edges. After a moment of shock, Loki took a deep breath and closed his eyes, knowing he needed to calm himself.  _ Your mother loves you.  _ Breathe in.  _ Your brother loves you...even though he’s an idiot.  _ Breathe out.  _ You’re a prince. You have your intelligence. You have your toys and machines.  _ Breathe in. _ You will have your daggers some day...once the instructor realizes I AM old enough for them.  _ Breathe out.

A ghost of a grin crossed his thin lips thinking about finally having  _ real _ daggers, not just the wooden ones that he was allowed to use. They were all unbalanced, and bulky, and too light. Loki imagined himself fighting off Frost Giants, two beautiful silver daggers slicing through his foes as he jumped and spun and weaved around them, not a one ever being able to touch him. He would take out an entire ARMY of Frost Giants some day, when he was a great warrior…

Loki swallowed hard, thinking now of Thor...huge, strong, perfect  _ Thor _ . No matter what,  _ Loki _ would never be  _ Thor _ . He hated how everything came so easily to him, how everyone just automatically seemed to like him and do what he wanted. It wasn’t fair. And even though Loki  _ knew _ Thor loved him dearly, he would never really understand how Loki felt. But he appreciated that his brother was nice to him, actively encouraged him to participate and engage in the fun of life. No matter how jealous he may be at times, Loki was sure that his brother would always love him.

Finally, he began to feel better. Forcing himself to push the memory of Odin’s murderous glare out of his head, he set to getting dressed and preparing to meet with his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been really fun thinking about Loki growing up, imagining what combination of experiences, heartbreaks, and joys created our favorite God of Mischief. I have absolutely ADORED hearing people's thoughts on "Laufeyson" so far, and it's been so encouraging to keep going! I love having a community with which to share my creative effusions. So thank you, friends. :)


	3. Seidr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets his birthday present from Frigga.

It was, as always, a gorgeous day in Asgard. Their ancestors had mastered weather technologies millennia ago, and so every day was predictably perfect. The sun shone down from a crystal blue sky, birds chirped happily in the morning light, and the gardens seemed even greener than usual as Loki looked down at them from his balcony. It was exactly the kind of day he had hoped for on his birthday, despite the earlier unpleasantness.

He decided to wear the outfit he’d had tailored after he’d complained that he no longer wanted to wear Thor’s hand-me-downs. He insisted, above all other reasons, that red just wasn’t his color. “It makes me look pasty and washed out!” little Loki insisted, and while Odin simply scoffed, Frigga giggled and took him to see the tailor that afternoon. He’d gotten to pick his own colors - and he loved the exquisite emerald green bolt of cloth he’d found in a corner, seemingly unused for decades. Even the tailor was surprised by his choice. “Green is not a... _ royal _ color, per se, my prince. If you’d like a cooler hue, perhaps a blue or-”

Frigga had needed to hold him back when he turned on the poor man and started pontificating about how he was a  _ prince _ and if he  _ wanted _ green then he would  _ HAVE _ green!

Eventually, he got his wish - a beautiful green tunic that draped with layers of fabric, over a soft black linen shirt and leather breaches. He’d even gotten boots made with green accents to match the tunic, and though he had begged his mother for silver vambraces, she said he was too young for metal accents.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, wearing his favorite outfit, his hair tamed and styled in the expert way that only _ he _ could do correctly...it still looked wrong. Something he couldn’t identify was just...off. It happened often, when he was trying to look his best. No matter how much effort he put into his appearance, just  _ something _ about his reflection never seemed...it was impossible to describe. Like an itch he couldn’t find and couldn’t scratch. He’d had the same face and body for 500 years, but somehow it never felt like it was  _ his _ . Madness, to be sure - who ever felt like they had the wrong body? Not a prince, of course. As always, he pushed that constant discomfort to the back of his mind, and made his way to the garden.

He went to his favorite place, a beautiful round glade, surrounded by exotic flowers from around the realms - pinks and blues and reds and yellows burst out of the verdant green around him. Loki sat on the tall stone bench, his short legs kicking absently in the open air between the seat and the ground. He had wrapped his palm in a piece of cloth, hoping to hide his self-injury - it was not proper for a prince to have done such a thing, and he felt ashamed. As he waited for his mother, his gaze was drawn to a garden spider who was spinning her web, and he lost himself in her delicate motions, circling the center slowly and deliberately, gradually moving outward, pulling silk from her abdomen as she went.  _ How simple life would be if I were a spider _ , Loki thought to himself, imagining his own head on a spider’s body, simply lying in wait for some unfortunate bug to come disturb the sticky strands. No duties. No angry father. No perfect brother. Just...being a spider, and that was enough.

A small bit of movement beneath a bush grabbed his attention, and he froze, shifting only his eyes to the spot, not moving a muscle. A bright green snake slithered forward into a beam of sunshine on a flagstone in the glade. Loki was awestruck by the magnificence of the creature - it’s smooth scales shining in the light, it’s long body moving gracefully across the ground, it’s emotionless slitted eyes giving him an acknowledging look as it settled itself on the stone and warmed its body, as though nothing else in the world could bother it. Loki wanted to get down on the ground and stare at it more closely, but he was afraid that if he moved, the incredible animal would slither away. So he stayed as still as a statue as the snake curled upon itself and basked. He could see the scales expand and contract with its breath, and that little forked tongue flicking out had him eager with anticipation as he waited for it to emerge each time with no discernable pattern.

He was transfixed, his complete focus on nothing but the shimmer of golden light that seemed to emanate from its gorgeous emerald back. So quiet, so calm…

“Loki?”

Frigga’s voice was soft, but he had been so entranced by his new friend that he yelped and jumped. He quickly turned to his mother, a guilty look on his face, then, realizing what he had done, turned back to see the empty flagstone. He sighed, looking dejected.

“There was a snake...but I scared him away…” Loki said half-heartedly, and Frigga came and sat on the bench next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m certain he enjoyed the company for a time, even if he was a bit skittish.” Loki looked up and his eyes met his mother’s, full of love and confidence and comfort. He let a small smile spread across his face before leaning in and giving her a hug around her waist, his little fingers wrapping around the folds of fabric in her dress and his cheek pressing against her shoulder. After a few moments of embrace, he pulled back, and Frigga took his hands in hers, as she often did. Then she noticed the cloth wrapped around his palm.

“What’s this?” she said calmly, with just a hint of concern. Loki’s chest tightened as she unwrapped it and saw the small marks in his hand, and tears began to brim in his eyes as she understood what had happened. A deep red flushed his cheeks.

“Oh, my boy,” she cooed, and she took his injured hand in both of hers. Golden beams of light and a happy warmth flowed from her delicate fingers, and after a moment, she let him go. The injuries were gone. Loki was dumbstruck - he knew his mother could do magic, but she had never done it on  _ him _ before. Magic was unsettling to most on Asgard - warriors preferred the natural way healing from injuries so as to be able to show off the scars of battle later at the tavern. Frigga rarely showed her powers, and to see it now, up close,  _ healing _ him...Loki was in genuine shock.

“I know I don’t often use my magic in Asgard,” Frigga said, smiling brightly at his astonished expression. “But it is something I hold very dear, something I have spent centuries practicing, and I was thinking...now that you’re 500, you might be old enough to start learning. Would you like that, little one?”

Loki couldn’t breathe - the air literally stilled in his chest. She was going to teach him magic. He was going to learn  _ magic _ .  _ HE _ was going to learn  _ MAGIC!! _

His luminous green eyes stayed locked on his mother, unable to turn away as his young mind refused to process anything but those words. Right as Frigga began to worry that she may have misjudged her son’s eagerness to take lessons from her, Loki’s face broke out in the biggest smile she had seen from him in his life.

“YES! Mother, yes! Thank you, I...I can’t wait!” He excitedly jumped up on the bench and began dancing and hopping in place, eyes squeezed shut with elation. “I’m gonna learn MAGIC!” he cried out. “You’re going to teach me  _ MAGIC!!! _ ”

Frigga laughed and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Shhh, Loki. No need to tell all of Asgard. Now sit back down.”

Loki lowered himself back to sitting but quickly hugged his mother with as much strength as his small arms could manage. Once he couldn’t squeeze any more, he pulled back and beamed up at her. “When do we start? Can we start today? Right now?”

“Yes, my dear,” Frigga smiled almost as widely as him, her eyes sparkling with joy. She pulled two small glass marbles from a pocket in her dress, one yellow, one blue, and held them in her flat palm. Loki watched intently, eager to see what would happen. With just the slightest squint of her eyes, Frigga made the blue marble gracefully levitate, dancing in the air in front of her. Loki’s jaw dropped as he watched it fly. “I’m going to learn THAT?!” he said with glee, unconsciously squeezing both hands into tight fists at chest level and wiggling in his seat, his gaze never leaving the swooping blue orb.

The marble slowly landed back where it had started, and Frigga took a moment to indulge herself in his childlike wonder - one of the many joys she had discovered in motherhood was sharing in the excitement of new discoveries with her children. It was a special pleasure to be the cause of such delight in her oft-melancholy son. ““Yes, my sweet boy. Now give me your hand, and I’ll show you.”

Loki reached out and took her empty hand, and she could feel him twitching with excitement. “Now, close your eyes,” she said, and he did as she asked.

Suddenly, he felt a warm tingling in his hand that traveled slowly up his arm from where she touched him. He gasped quietly as it spread up to his elbow, but managed to keep his eyes shut.

“Do you feel that?” Frigga whispered, and she grinned again as Loki nodded slowly. “That is seidr. It’s a force that is controlled through emotion and willpower, just like magnetism is controlled by atoms and charges. It is all around us - some places have a more than others, but it can be found everywhere in the universe, always in the background of your senses - however, without knowing its aura, it is almost impossible to recognize. Now that you know what it feels like, you should be able to perceive it yourself, whenever you want. But it takes training to know how to harness it and make it manifest your will. Do you understand, Loki?”

Loki nodded, focusing on the effusive tickle that now radiated through his entire body, committing the sensation to the deepest parts of his memory so he would always know it. It suddenly felt as essential as breathing, like something he’d been searching for his entire life and was just now finding; made him feel complete, whole in a way that had never seemed possible. He decided right then and there that he would never be without it again, that he would dedicate his life to understanding and mastering it. That it would be his.

“Open your other hand and call it to you,” Frigga spoke softly, not wanting to disturb his concentration. “Think about drawing that feeling to the center of your palm and holding it there.”

Loki imagined the seidr cautiously coming to him, like a frightened animal, and he held up his hand to welcome it to him.  _ It’s ok _ , he told it in his mind,  _ you are safe. I won’t hurt you.  _ He could feel his hand warm, and he smiled as the tingling wrapped between his fingers and settled on his life line.

“Take a look.”

He could hear the smile in Frigga’s voice as he opened his eyes. A beautiful golden light swirled lazily in the palm of his hand. An ecstatic laugh burst from his chest as he kept the seidr circling slowly, afraid to take his eyes off of it in case looking away would make it disappear. Frigga leaned forward, holding her hand with the two marbles in front of him. “Now I want you to reach down with it, and pick up one of the marbles.”

Loki’s brow furrowed and his veridian eyes locked onto the glass sphere.  _ Go to it, _ he willed the seidr. The vapor slowly extended outward and touched the smooth surface.

“Can you feel the marble? The temperature? The texture of the glass?” Frigga whispered quietly behind him, and he found that he could...it was warm from being in her hand, and the hard surface was firm...

“Lift it up,” she encouraged him. At first he could only make it wiggle, just a little bit...Loki held his breath and pushed the seidr a bit harder.  _ Come on _ ...he begged silently, still struggling with the balance between drawing it in and expending it, trying to make it flow instantly through him to the marble. His forehead began to bead with sweat from the effort, but the determined boy maintained his focus, visualizing that he was saturating the shimmering vapor with his will. With another push, the seidr surrounded the little yellow orb, and slowly it began to rise into the air. He could feel its weight as he continued to elevate the object, completely enthralled by the swirling sensation of the magic flowing through him and around the marble. Narrowing his eyes, he willed it to move side to side, then in a small circle, then back down to his mother’s palm.

Frigga closed her hand around the small items, and the golden seidr retreated once again to Loki’s hand. After another few seconds of staring at it in awe, he finally exhaled. Then he turned to his mother with a smile that encompassed all the excitement he felt at his accomplishment.

“I did it!” His voice was barely a whisper, so overwhelmed with emotion that his throat could hardly make a sound. Then, the joy overcame him and he laughed. “I DID IT!” he said loud enough to scare a bird out of a nearby tree. 

Frigg laughed with him and squeezed him tight. “Well done, my beautiful boy! You’re a natural.” She kissed the top of his head, pride threatening to burst her chest wide open. Her precious, precocious son finally had an outlet she could share with him. She thrilled at the thought of the lessons they would have together. 

Loki held his hand up to his face, the golden light he held still undulating gently, casting a bright, soft glow on his young face. He buzzed with its energy as it pulsed through him, feeling it harmonize with his soul. He knew it, more than anything he’d felt before, that this was  _ right. _

  
_ You are mine, _ he thought proudly, and as he did, the swirling mist turned a beautiful, emerald shade of green.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very loosey-goosey sort of story, just waiting and seeing where each chapter takes me. It's like watching a tv series...in my own head, and I want to be excited by what happens next too! :) Introverting for the win!
> 
> There may be another chapter, but I don't know if I'm going to make a full story out of this. We'll see - it's kind of exciting, isn't it? Thanks for playing along!


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